As the nineties marched on, and my sister and I covered our room with posters hastily ripped from Smash Hits and NME, Dolores was joined by other amazing female lead singers on our woodchip wall of fame. Shirley Manson from Garbage, Cerys Matthews from Catatonia and Sharleen Spiteri from Texas all made the cut. The subliminal influence of such women, who were fronting bands while sweating and allowing themselves to shout and scream, and look ugly and in pain, was huge.

Eventually, Faye left for university in Liverpool and replaced indie music with house music and nights at the legendary Cream nightclub. Without her constant influence, I soon found my teenage years dominated by gangster rap of varying quality and dubious sexual politics. Dolores and the other tough women of the nineties sadly fell by my musical wayside and, by the time I went to university myself, I was happily dancing to anti-woman anthem Don’t Cha by the Pussycat Dolls.

But after a particularly bruising break-up in my mid-twenties I found myself revisiting The Cranberries, and the song Linger in particular. It had the dual comforting value of being both incredibly nostalgic to hear again and a beautiful song about heartbreak, with poignant lyrics that had obviously passed me by when I was younger and yet to encounter love.

“Why The Cranberries' Dolores O’Riordan was the Nineties feminist icon we all needed”